What Went Wrong
by HecateA
Summary: An exploration of a destroyed family and several warped individuals. Oneshot.


**Hi! Contrary to usual, I don't have a long author's note today. I simply hope that you enjoy the story. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters portrayed in this story. Scenes four and ten are scenes from The Titan's Curse by Rick Riordan who have swapped points of view.**

* * *

**What Went Wrong**

* * *

I

"Dada," she managed to spit out, crawling across the marble. Atlas turned around to face her.

"What is it, child?" he asked.

"Zo learned," she babbled.

"What did you learn Zoë?" The Titan asked.

"Zo walk."

"Did you now?" Atlas said.

The child nodded firmly. "Learned all by self."

"Did you?" Atlas said.

She smiled. Her teeth were small and sparse, her smile big and wide.

"That seems unlikely," he said as nicely as possible. "Perhaps your mother helped? One of your sisters?"

"By self," Zoë insisted. It was true. She'd been all alone in the blooming garden, she'd tossed a toy too far and had found no other alternative to get it than getting on her stubby legs and climbing over the little picket fence surrounding the daffodils when it came to the safe recovery of her plaything (to be fair, she was a child and so the trampling of the daffodils hardly mattered).

"I doubt that you did it all by yourself," Atlas said. That's when the man in the golden armour walked in with blueprints in his arms and lines on and in his forehead. Zoë wasn't to touch him like she touched Uncle Hyperion or Aunt Phoebe. She was to stay far from him. Be 'respectful' according to her father and her mother.

"Ello Un-le K-onos," Zoë said skipping a few letters in her words.

"Hello young one," he said. He sounded cold. His voice was flat. Something was wrong. "Atlas, a minute?"

"Of course," Atlas said. "Zoë, will you please go back with your sisters?"

"But Zo walk," she said disapointed. Atlas had been proud when the second youngest of her sisters had lost a tooth for the first time. Zoë had thought that if she did something for the first time too... well, she hadn't crawled all this way for nothing, no child had that kind of time.

"Well why don't you walk back to your sisters?"

* * *

Here's where most parents go wrong from the start; they don't celebrate the small victories.

* * *

II

"I think that my violets have taken too much sun," one said sadly.

"I told you to plant them partially in the shade."

"Not _partially _in shade, in partial shade," another corrected.

"Well yes, but you understood what I meant."

"Father would be appalled to see that the interest you take to your vocabulary is so little," the eldest replied.

"Father isn't here."

"That's hardly an attitude to take!"

"Hello? My violets?" The first repeated.

"Right. You should transplant them at once. Perhaps at that spot by the fence?"

"No, they're so small… They'd get stepped on by anyone going in and out of there. People can be _so _careless, it' a tragedy."

"Perhaps near the fountain?"

"No, Ladon is too close. I fear that his fire would be too much for the poor flowers."

"Heat and light are not the same thing."

"I don't care whether they die of overexposure or by being torched, I'm trying to keep them alive!"

"Zoë, any ideas?"

This particular Hesperide was afar. If she was to get her dresses dirty, it wouldn't be by kneeling in the garden- she was climbing a tree (at least today).

"Zoë!" One of the sisters cried. "You know how mother feels about your climbing!"

"'The daughters of aquatic nymphs should hardly be so far from the ground'," another quoted.

* * *

The worst mistake that one can make is to be different.

* * *

III

"Your father is speaking to someone," the servant (or rather the slave) that Zoë approached said as the poor girl balanced a basket around each hip.

"Who?" Zoë asked.

"I don't know, Milady," she said.

"Where?"

"At the gates."

"The gates," Zoë mused.

"May I go?" The servant said, her eyes flickering from Zoë to the basket of laundry she had to do. Father was quite angry when a domestic hadn't accomplished their daily tasks. That was, after all, why he fed them perfectly good food.

"Of course," Zoë said waving her hand. She crossed the gardens with quick strides, ducking under trees and jumping over the fence to shorten her stroll.

She froze after jumping over the final obstacle.

Down the hill she recognised her father's burly figure and another… another figure. A figure that much could be said about, actually…

He was tall. His arms were thick. He was young. His hair was as ink black as an Olympian's, his face dashing, and his arms… Oh gods, just the figure in general… His hand were on the hilt of his sword. He wore laced sandals, a short chiton and assorted pieces of armour that left only _some _things to the imagination.

Not his arms anyways…

* * *

The worst mistake of many across the span of age and blood and differences: do not look at what you cannot touch.

* * *

IV

"I don't truth your father."

Pretty but maybe slow a bit, this one was.

"You should not," Zoë agreed anyways. "You will have to trick him. But you cannot take the prize directly. You will die!"

Heracles laughed, and his confidence was nearly contagious... until Zoë remembered that it was rooted out of ignorance.

"Then why don't you help me, pretty one?"

She forced the blush down from her cheeks while simultaneously trying to muster up the courage to answer.

"I… I am afraid. Ladon will stop me. My sisters, if they found out… they would disown me."

"Then there's nothing for it," Heracles said standing up and rubbing his hands together. Zoë's heart jumped. _No. _He was cocky. In all his qualities there had to be a flaw, and that flaw had quickly revealed itself to be dangerous and irreparable cockiness. He hadn't known defeat yet, and so he couldn't see it coming. But it _would _come. No hero had defeated Ladon alone.

Alone…

"Wait!" Zoë said.

Even after she said it, she still agonised over the decision. But her hand plucked the long brooch from her hair and the words spilled out of her mouth, all on their own. All on instinct.

"If you must fight, take this. My mother, Pleione, gave it to me. She was a daughter of the ocean, and the ocean's power is within it. _My _immortal power."

She blew on the pin and it glowed brightly, more than it had in the starlight. The light actually blurred in Zoë's vision for a scary moment when she realised what she'd done.

"Take it," she said. "And make of it a weapon."

Heracles laughed. "A hairpin? How will this slay Ladon, pretty one?"

The blush was easier to repulse this time; she was scared after all.

"It may not," Zoë admitted, "But it is all I can offer, if you insist on being stubborn."

Heracles seemed to soften up. He picked up the sword and as soon as his fingertips touched it, the sword became long and heavy.

"Well balanced," he said commentating on the sword. "Though I usually prefer to use my bare hands. What shall I name this blade?"

"Anaklusmos," Zoë said, somewhat sadly to see her attribute go. "The current that takes one by surprise. And before you know it, you have been swept out to sea."

_Kind of like what happened the moment that our eyes met, _Zoë thought sadly.

* * *

The worst mistake of many girls: putting the charms before the brains, and the heroes before the family.

* * *

V

"Deliberately, intolerable!" They shrieked.

Zoë shied away from their very voices.

"A _hero? _A bloody mortal _hero?" _One hissed. "Zoë, if we would have thought that your doe eyes actually meant anything at all…"

"Doe eyes!" Zoë said undignified.

"Yes. Does eyes." The same sister repeated herself.

"Enough!" Atlas yelled. The sky was resting on his shoulders as per usual, and it made him more irritable than ever. "You- Zoë, is it? Is it you?"

"It was me," Zoë said.

"_You _gave that puny hero that sword? You do not _use _swords in this garden! Where did you _get _that sword?" Her father demanded.

Zoë shrunk back.

"Zoë Nightshade, you answer me right now or so help me!"

It was irrational, Atlas' hands were a little full, he couldn't lay a finger or muster an ounce of strength to hurt her. But Zoë was terrified.

"The pin," she said. "The pin can take on any shape."

Quiet.

"Did you perhaps mean, by that, _your immortality?" _Atlas roared.

Needless to say, the conversation didn't better from that point on.

Zoë wasn't sure how surprised she was by what happened next.

Well, the spit on her leg was surprising- she'd admit to that.

"Despicable, wicked child," Atlas said. "If I ever see you on this mountain again…"

"Father," Zoë said breathlessly.

"I am the father of no such wench," Atlas roared.

* * *

It has been the mistake of many a prideful men to be exclusive with family.

It never works.

* * *

VI

She felt like the traveling cloak on her shoulders was about to crush her.

"I have come all this way to find you," she repeated herself.

"I heard you the first time, pretty one."

Heracles leaned back in his chair at a perilous angle. He managed to keep his glass straight. Of course. Why waste his oh-so hard earned _liquor _at a time like this?

Somebody else whistled in Zoë's general direction, eliciting another round of laughter from the other men populating the tavern.

Zoë had had enough by that round, and she pushed her cloak back, spun towards the whistler and fired her crossbow. She didn't even watch her arrow make contact, she turned back to Heracles.

"Nice shot. You found yourself a weapon."

"Of _course _I did. You know what that hairpin was to me. You know how…" Zoë looked at her hands. "You know how everything's changed. I wasn't about to come find you unprotected like a damsel."

Heracles raised his hands. "Pretty one, why come find _me? _I'm not exactly good with the family either in case you don't remember…"

"I'm not going back to the Hesperides," she said. "But you and I... We had a partnership… in the gardens. I helped you. You helped thousands of people across these blasted lands. Now it's your turn to help me."

"Whoa," Heracles said. "When did I ever say anything about help?"

She was shocked. Like a drop of temperature, Heracles' words had frozen her blood and ichor.

"When you told me that you were at least _half _human," Zoë said.

Heracles raised his hands. "I'm a nomad, Pretty one. I don't make promises or payments. I take what I can get, what's offered."

Zoë blood unfroze and boiled.

"I see. Who then is paying for your drinks?"

The barmaid made a poorly planned entry at this point.

* * *

It is the fatal mistake of heroes, no matter what they think their fatal flaw is, to never pay their debts.

* * *

VII

"Excuse me, miss…"

Zoë turned, crossbow raised, and the young woman –was it a young woman? Her vision was fuzzy- had to jump back and raise her hands. The others behind her raised their bows.

"Now, now," the girl said returning to their feet. "All weapons down. I don't think that any of us need this..."

* * *

It is the innocent mistake of the well-meaning to come off strongly.

* * *

VIII

"Stop it," Alethea said.

"What?" Zoë whispered. She didn't believe that she was doing anything wrong. This wasn't her first venture into a peasant market to gather supplies for camp after a mass battle left too many of her sisters injured. Alethea, the very leader of the hunt, took Zoë into town for a reason, after all.

"Stop looking at them," the lieutenant ordered sharply.

"At who?"

"Stop looking at the men and looking for his face."

"I did no such thing!" Zoë said angrily.

Alethea shrugged. "It is not an action that our Lady would punish. Rather it is one that she would pity."

"I do not want pity."

"Good. Eyes front, then."

* * *

It is the mistake of many of the broken-hearted to look for faces that they knew where they were not.

* * *

IX

"Thou would make an excellent huntress," Zoë promised. _If only thou weren't so damn stubborn. _

"I am excellent at what I do now," Thalia Grace snarled back. "Ah man, are your friends telling the kid about this circus you run? Ah, Zoë... Please tell me that you're leaving the kid alone, she hasn't even hit double digits for-"

"I believe that the little daughter of Athena is with that boy," Zoë said. "Luke."

There was an automatic and undeniable lease in the girl's shoulders when Zoë said the boy's name. It made Zoë cringe.

"Thou believe in Luke."

"Enough to expect him to keep a kid safe and hydrated while I screw around with people not worth my time," Thalia said. "Yeah."

"We both know that it is more than that," Zoë said shaking her head.

"Leave me alone," Thalia muttered.

"Thy heart is thou's worst enemy. Thy dream will be thou's worst nightmare."

"Was it the 'leave me' or the 'alone' part that you didn't understand? I'm not even the one speaking Shakespearean, here!"

"He is a boy."

"I've noticed."

"Thou doesn't understand."

"No, and apparently you don't either," Thalia said angrily. She pushed Zoë square in the shoulders and a spark flew from her fingers across Zoë's body. "_Leave. Me. Alone."_

* * *

It is often the mistake of the burnt to try and keep others away from the fire.

* * *

X

Atlas swatted aside her arrows and kept charging the foolish boy, who was perhaps brave amid all the foolishness (not that Zoë could tell right now she was too busy cursing him for charging a Titan). Atlas' javelin caught Perseus in the chest and sent him flying back to where the sky would have touched the earth if it had not been for Lady Artemis.

Zoë had no choice. She charged the Titan herself to keep him busy.

"Ah, yes," Atlas said resorting to a tongue more archaic than Ancient Greek. "My favourite little traitor."

Zoë's arrows landed in his shoulders. "Thy only, I believe."

"Even for a hunter you sound like a prude, it's because of the way you talk."

Zoë switched languages herself.

"It makes me wonder," Atlas said throwing his javelin. Zoë rolled out of its way. "Where did I go _wrong?" _

"Pardon me Father, what was that? I was a bit busy ducking such a poorly thrown weapon," Zoë said.

"Where did I go so awfully wrong with you? Your sisters- all lovely girls. You… Well, 'prude' is at the bottom of the list..."

Zoë's brain filtered through its memories quickly.

It was a fair question. What _had _gone wrong? Why hadn't Zoë ended up gardening for eternity- holding bird seeds in the palm of her hand and fussing about how the lack of rain was affecting her shrubs until the day that the earth was no more? Why hadn't Zoë been placid and flat as a bad soda, why was she filled with urges to fight and defend and stand tall like she was now- instead of spying at events from a distance like the Hesperides were doing now? What had changed her? Ruined her?

The childhood she'd spent getting her milestones interrupted by war plans?

Her horrible minglings with Heracles?

Any other of her myriad of mistakes?

No.

Actually, no.

Nothing had ruined her. Zoë was the best of the bunch when it came to Atlas' daughters. She _wasn't _waiting out the action in the room next door. She didn't kiss the boots of Titans and dictators. She was interesting, she made friends, and she had changed the world.

"Father dearest," Zoë said, her voice soft as velvet but strong as an ox. "I think that the real question here is; what did you do _right _with me?"

* * *

It is the mistake of truly great people to underestimate themselves.


End file.
